


sense of home

by witchy_country616



Category: The Royals (TV 2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Depression, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchy_country616/pseuds/witchy_country616
Summary: That’s what hurts the most, more than being considered unfit for ruling, more than being seen as less than Liam, more than the idea of disbanding the monarchy. That his dad saw him likethat: an empty, arrogant shell of a boy who had wanted to be king.A Robert Henstridge character study, with a bit of Willow thrown in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know what this is, except Robert and Willow are ruining my life. The depression mention is very vague, but I felt like, better safe than sorry, that's why it's on the tags. There is also a bit of Robert/Kathryn in the beginning, but fear not, it all ends well (i mean, not for Kathryn lol).

His first memory is of being three or four on the balcony, waving at the people that had gathered around to pay their respects to the Royal family. He doesn’t remember what was the occasion – his dad’s birthday, perhaps? Or the twins being presented to the world? It doesn’t matter, anyway. What came next he remembers clearly: his mom kneeling down until they were face to face, pointing towards his father and saying, “Look, Robert, one day that’s going to be you.” “Me?”, he had asked sheepishly and Helena had smiled at him, “you’re going to be the next king.”

_One day that’s going to be you. You. You. You._

He can’t tell how many times he heard that same phrase, or variations thereof, since then. Hundreds. Thousands. The intonation had changed each time, of course. Some said it with awe, others with deference owed to the position and a few, like his dad, with grave seriousness. _With great power comes great responsibility, my son_ , King Simon had never lost an opportunity to remind him.

Robert had felt like laughing and lashing out. _Don’t you think I know that, dad? All my life has been is responsibility, duty and honor._ But he never did. Never once complained. He would always nod in agreement and be more serious, more responsible, more in control. Because if his dad had felt the need to remind him of that so often, surely there was something he was doing wrong and a way he could be better, prove himself better.

He wonders now if he had been more open, talked about how he felt, how afraid he was of failing them all, if it would have made a difference. Would King Simon have seen him differently? Would his dad? Or would both of them, _the king and father_ , consider him all the more pathetic for it?

After all, wasn’t his intelligence his only redeeming quality? _You have all the gifts that can be taught and none of the gifts that can’t._ Did his father really consider him that empty? He had tried so hard to be perfect for him, and look at what he got in return.

That’s what hurts the most, more than being considered unfit for ruling, more than being seen as less than Liam, more than the idea of disbanding the monarchy. That his dad saw him like _that_ : an empty, arrogant shell of a boy who had wanted to be king.

That night he goes to Kathryn and tells her he loves her for the first time. Kisses her harder, more fiercely and urgently. And when he fucks her, even he can see he is trying to get something she can never give. Some other type of love and understanding: one that you could never find in the arms of a woman.

“Would you still love me if I wasn’t a prince?” He asks quietly when she turns in his arms to sleep.

Kathryn laughs sweetly. Her laugh was one of the reasons he fell in love with her in the first place and it warms his heart. If he could be here, in this bedroom on the top of a second-rate English pub, with her forever, then he thinks he wouldn’t mind so much not being king.

But her words are like a cold shower thrown on his illusions. “You not being royal? What’s that about? You will always be Prince Robert. And I love you all the same.” She says, giving him a peck on the cheek and closing her eyes to sleep.

_Yes, but would you love me if I wasn’t him? If I wasn’t the next in line? If there was no monarchy at all?_ He wants to, but he doesn’t ask.

And when the call from the army comes, he leaps at the chance to get back the control that has been slowly slipping from his hands ever since his father declared that, no matter how much he tried, he would never be a good king.

The Army doesn’t let him forget who he is, though. There is no relief to be found when his helmet weighs as much as crown, advertising “HRH R. Henstridge” to everyone. But at least it takes him away from the palace, even if everyday that passes without King Simon announcing the end of the monarchy is another day filled with dread and anxiety.

He can’t even remember the last time he properly slept. The Air Force doctor kindly tells him to take care of himself, that his health is the most important thing to all of them, and there is no shame in asking for help – all while discreetly passing him sleeping pills and anti-depressants across. _Off the record, son._

He keeps the pills under the mattress, willing himself not to give in, and he doesn’t know if it’s a victory or a punishment each day that he doesn’t take them.

When his jet is hacked, he is going on his third straight day without sleep and he actually thinks he is hallucinating when the controls stop working. It’s a miracle he even managed to eject in those conditions.

His first thought upon waking up is to get back home. To get back to Len and mom, because he can’t stand the idea of them worried about him when he is all well and in one piece. But that island, that island is the sweetest temptation he has ever faced. It’s scary and inhospitable and he has to remember everything from basic training to keep himself alive day after day. It’s a constant struggle for survival, but it has the one redeeming quality of being desert. There is no other soul for miles and even his demons seem quieter under those conditions.

He wonders how long he could have kept that up. Would he go full Robinson Crusoe, twenty-eight years away from home? Well, Robert did try, but once _she_ started haunting him, it became a losing battle. How could he have stayed in that half-life when she demanded his return? God knows he never wanted anyone as much as he wanted her.

And maybe now, now that the King had for sure abolished the monarchy, now that he had nothing else, maybe they could finally be together, in front of everyone, not as his dirty little secret. He practices his speech on the way home. Not the one he will undoubtedly have to make in front of the cameras, but the only one that matters. It starts with “ _you’re the one that brought me back”_ and it ends with “ _would you make me the happiest man alive?_ “

In the end it didn’t matter, though. He might as well have spent the whole twenty-eight years, since it only took her _ten months, three weeks and four days_ to move on. And with the better man, it seems. Wouldn’t his dear old dad be proud? For seeing what he had seen all along?

He gets out of there before either one of them can see him and his feet mechanically carry him to the palace. It’s too late now to go back to his island. Too many people involved in rescuing Prince Robert for him to simply disappear again. There’s nothing left to do except go back to living.

“You still could’ve run way.” She comments, interrupting him for the first time.

“Huh?” He asks a little bit dazed. For a moment, he had even forgotten he wasn’t alone, though his hands – he notices – are still running circles on her arm like they were in the beginning, as if he needs her touch to keep himself grounded.

“You didn’t have to go back to palace. I think it shows character that you did.” She explains.

“I had no documents, no money, no place to go. Going to the palace doesn’t show character, it only shows how much of a coward I am.” He argues back, unsatisfied that she can’t see his actions for what they really were – another selfish act.

She shakes her head negatively, but doesn’t argue back – if anyone is used to his bursts of low self-esteem amidst his usual arrogant and holier-than-thou attitude, it’s her and she has learned when to pick her battles.

“Was that when you decided to get revenge on them?” She whispers in question, that subject, and all the repercussion it would originate, still sore for her as well.

He lets out a bitter chuckle before answering. “I didn’t even know my father was dead back then. I knew he hadn’t abolished the monarchy yet, because MI-6 still showed up when I called them, but that’s all. I had no idea about the rest. The possibility of being king, for once, hadn’t even crossed my mind.” He admits to her, realizing how true that really was once he says it aloud. It was probably the only time in his whole life that that crown hadn’t been in his mind. It had been Liam and Kathryn. Then mom and Len. The first moment of relief he had ever felt when their arms wrapped around him that night, promising that familiar comfort he had sorely missed.

The monarchy had only become an issue when Cyrus showed up, saying his father was dead. Even then, he hadn’t thought about how his pursue of the throne would affect his relationship with Liam and Kathryn. _He hadn’t._ Not until he visited her that night and still neither of them told him the truth or offered any kind of explanation.

He tells her he has no expectation and it’s true, in part at least. He hadn’t expected them to get back to their previous relationship, though ironically, they eventually did (in large part because he pursued her, yes), but he had expected some honesty, which never came.

He knows a better man would have told them what he saw. Or at least, would walk away. He isn’t that man.

Kay had always been his, his beacon of light; his one weakness and addiction, giving her up seemed as impossible then as it did when they had first started dating. And he kept telling himself it wasn’t as bad, they could make it work. All he had to do was keep Liam in his place and figure out a way to present Kathryn to society and turn her into a suitable bride.

Easier said than done when every time he closed his eyes he saw the two of them kissing. How long had that been going on? Did they even wait a suitable period after he died? Or did she jump on the first royal dick she could find after he was gone? Maybe that was what really got her going. Or maybe it was just Liam. He could see how she still looked at him, still searched him out. Robert wasn’t enough for her, just like he hadn’t been enough for his father. He would never be. But he would show them; he would show them all how wrong they were. He would be king and they would have to bow to him, even Liam.

“As far as motivations go, this was not the best.” Willow ponders once he turns quiet. “But I can’t really blame you wanting to become king to prove your father wrong. _And_ it was your birthright.”

Robert sighs, shaking his head in denial. He turns her towards him and gently positions her on top of his lap so that now they are face to face. “Why do you keep trying to see my side?”

He doesn’t miss the side look she gives to her left hand, where a huge rock adorns her ring finger.

“This is what we promised, isn’t it? Not…not to _love_ each other.” If his heart takes a leap when she says love, well, he is not telling anyone. “But to be partners. To be there for each other, because we’re in this together.”

He kisses her hand, the same where she wears her engagement ring, because he doesn’t trust himself to actually form coherent words.

Willow shoves him playfully and laughs, “Now, come on, I believe this was the story of the _worst_ thing you have ever done. I have great expectations, Your Majesty.”

“I was responsible for breaking up Eleanor and Jasper.” He blurts out, carefully checking her reaction as he relates the story of burning Eleanor’s letter and calling Jasper’s father, so that, in turn, he could contact that journalist and expose him. Jasper behaved more honorably than he expected, stopping the story from becoming public (which, frankly, would have been a disaster), but him and Eleanor still broke up, like Robert had expected.

Surprise crosses Willow’s face for a moment before her brain finally connects the dots. “Of course you did that. I was wondering when someone in this family would do something about him. His American past was a scandal about to happen. I had already composed a dozen of press releases just waiting for it to blow up on us.”

“You knew he was American? And a con man?” Robert marveled, while she nods back.

“They really loved each other, though…it’s sad he’ll just never be an appropriate choice.” She pauses for a moment, seemingly in the middle of an epiphany. “That’s what you said when you chose me. That I was the most appropriate choice.”

“I did.” He admits.

And she continues, “even though I worked at the Palace at the time and I’m only half British.”

“Your passport says British, and you’re the heir to one of the most prestigious and noble families in Britain, that doesn’t change no matter where you’re working.” He retorts.

She makes him a face that shows she is not convinced. “That same description can be given to a bunch of society girls. Why did you choose me?”

He turns his face away from her, realizing he can’t postpone this moment any longer. She had asked him to tell the worst thing he had ever done, and he couldn’t deny her that. He could never deny her anything. He just hoped she could be as understanding as she had been so far. “Liam. I chose you because of Liam. I wanted to make sure he had nothing once I was done with him.”

“What…? Why…?” She questions in shock, moving out of the bed before he can stop her. “But I…There was nothing going on between us.”

“I knew about the campaign. And that you were the one behind it.” He confesses while getting out of the bed as well, but keeping his distance from her. “I could see how much you cared about him. And I knew as long as he had you on his side, he would keep coming. Because that’s what Liam does, it’s who he is. He wouldn’t give up. Not if he had any support.” His eyes find hers across the room and he can see all the disappointment she feels etched into them and goes for the kill. “I wanted to make sure he had no one, that the girl he felt he could always turn to, now belonged to me.”

“You’re sick.” She curses, her face flushed with anger, all the disgust she feels clear on her voice. “I…I’m not pawn! I’m not one of your toys you and your brother can fight over! And I won’t be another Kathryn here!”

“I know, I know you’re not.” He shouts back at her. “I know who this all sounds like, but…”

“No but! I… I _liked_ you! I trusted you!” She screams, trying to contain the tears that threaten to fall.

“I like you too!” She looks at him in disbelief and he declares, “I love you, Willow.”

“You can’t be serious… You can’t expect me to believe in that after all of this.” Her face is contorted in anger and disappointment and she seems ready to bolt out of the room if he comes any closer.

“It started because of Liam. I can’t change that. But then you happened and I wasn’t expecting it. You’re the most beautiful, smartest woman I’ve ever met. You keep me on my toes and you’re not afraid to tell me I’m wrong. And thanks to you, I know I’ve been wrong often.” Despite her anger, Willow laughs. “It’s not only that. You’re my home in the middle of this craziness. You are supportive, funny, and sexy as hell. There is nothing I don’t love about you. I know I don’t deserve you, but I’m _in love_ with you. All of you.”

“Let’s say in believe in you…” She declares between sniffles, walking towards him until they are face to face. “You’re not off the hook yet.”

He nods in agreement, reaching to touch her face. “I will accept my punishment gladly… Just don’t give up on me, Willow.”

“Don’t make me want to.” She murmurs softly, her hands reaching above his neck to bring him down for a feverish kiss. “Don’t keep this kind of shit from me again.”

He mumbles a no between planting wet kisses down her neck. “You’re my partner, my friend and Queen. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and/or comments if you can!


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